


At your command

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Silmarillion Prompts [31]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femdom, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5202017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Aredhel submits, and Elenwë takes full advantage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At your command

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. The prompt: Elenwë beats Aredhel at sparring practice, winning a previously agreed-upon bet: Aredhel submits to her every whim for a day. (In short: Elenwë femdom featuring restraints, toys, orgasm denial and all sorts of kinky goodness that they're both into.) DONE AND DONE. Well, I forgot restraints (damn), but I think I hit the others ;)

Irissë was disbelieving, and Elenwë was enjoying the novelty.

“You shouldn’t have made the bet if you were going to be so distressed by losing,” she said coolly, folding her arms.

Irissë was still sitting on the ground, where she’d ended up after a particularly solid strike. “I wasn’t supposed to lose!”

“Why, do you underestimate my prowess?” Elenwë narrowed her eyes, but her tone was teasing.

“No, I – ”

“I am not a warrior huntress like you, but,” Elenwë’s eyes glinted, “but I have been taking boxing lessons from Artanis.”

Irissë groaned and dropped back on the ground. “That girl is a traitor to her own blood.”

“Apparently. Also, learning to box against the tallest woman of the Noldor gives one a considerable edge against slightly less tall women of the Noldor. Now get up, my lady,” said Elenwë, her hands on her hips now. “We have a bet to settle.”

“Very well,” said Irissë, getting to her feet. She inclined her head, making a slight bow to Elenwë. “What shall be thy bidding, mistress?”

 

* * *

 

 

Irissë was finding it difficult, after all was said and done, to mind losing the bet to Elenwë all that terribly.

“If I had known you were going to be this good at giving orders,” she said, breathing quickly. “I would have thrown the match gladly.”

“I would have won anyway,” said Elenwë lightly, pulling on silk gloves that covered her arms to the elbow. “Take off your clothes and get on your knees.”

Irissë complied wordlessly, her eyes fixed on Elenwë. Elenwë was wearing a thin petticoat, transparent enough to make clear she wore nothing underneath, and Irissë’s eyes kept traveling to the shadow of Elenwë’s sex beneath the thin material. A gloved finger tipped her chin gently up. “Eyes up here,” said Elenwë softly.

She was bare-breasted, a gold chain she usually wore over festival clothes crisscrossing her breasts, small moonstone drops dangling from the delicate gold links. Her honey-colored hair was twisted up behind her head, and her eyes shone as she looked down at Irissë.

“Now,” she said, stepping back and seating herself on a chair before where Irissë knelt. “Touch yourself for me.”

It was easy enough to do; Irissë had been wet since their sparring match, and her arousal had only increased with Elenwë’s newly discovered gift for command. She licked her fingers and then slipped them down to her sex, letting out a soft moan as she pressed her fingertips to the center of her arousal. How many times had she done this picturing Elenwë’s face? It was that much easier with Elenwë before her, her legs spread beneath that thin shift, her heavy breasts bare and inviting, her eyes so bright, so admiring.

Irissë let a finger slip inside herself, pressing it deep as she rubbed her thumb over her clit, her eyes flickering shut at the wash of pleasure.

“Keep your eyes open.” Elenwë’s voice, deeper than usual, rich with the cadence of command.

Irissë opened her eyes, fixing them on Elenwë as she pleasured herself, her knees spreading farther apart as she rocked down against her fingers, pleasure building in her.

“Stop,” said Elenwë, when Irissë was on the edge.

Irissë stopped, though she could not help a desperate whimper from escaping her lips.

“Do you know what you look like?” whispered Elenwë. “Naked before me, flushed with pleasure, your slickness dripping down your thighs, your fingers buried within you?” She reached out and took Irissë’s hand, and slowly sucked at her fingers, her eyes never leaving Irissë’s face. Irissë felt herself throb as if Elenwë had pressed her lips to her sex instead of her fingers.

“You are so beautiful,” murmured Elenwë. “So debauched. So perfect.”

Irissë tried to lean forward, tried to wrap her arms around Elenwë’s neck and kiss her lips and press her hips against Elenwë’s groin, but Elenwë pulled back.

“Use this,” she said, and pulled an object from behind the chair. It was a beautifully carved oblong of polished wood, and Irissë recognized her aunt’s work; Nerdanel was famed for her craft and her touch was unmistakable. Elenwë placed the phallus on the ground, where it stood erect on its flat base. “Let me see you use it.”

Irissë braced her hand against the object’s base to steady it, and then, spreading her knees further apart, sank down so it pressed against her wet opening. Groaning as she felt it push inside her, she sank down further, taking it inch by inch inside her. When she was nearly flush to the floor, she heard Elenwë’s soft intake of breath, and looked up to see Elenwë’s hand busy beneath her thin skirt. Rising up, Irissë began to work herself up and down on the polished wood until it was slick with her wetness, and her moans joined Elenwë’s.

But just as Irissë was cresting the peak of pleasure, Elenwë’s voice rang out, hoarse, but still brooking no refusal. “Stop.”

“Elenwë.” Irissë groaned and tried to keep from rocking down again.

“Stop.” Elenwë was sitting straight, her hands on her thighs and her skirt hiked up, and Irissë reluctantly pulled herself off the toy. “Are you close?” murmured Elenwë.

“Elenwë, I‘ve been close since you told me to take my clothes off.”

“Then lay back,” whispered Elenwë, “and spread your legs.”

Irissë stretched herself out on the floor, her knees bent and her legs spread wide, and Elenwë knelt before her.

“You know,” she said, running light fingers, still in silk gloves, over Irissë’s engorged sex, “You cannot finish until I tell you to.”

Irissë squeezed her eyes shut. “I know.”

“But lucky for you,” Elenwë bent low, “I am all too merciful.” Her breath made Irissë tremble. “Come for me.” She pressed her mouth to Irissë’s sex, her tongue sliding deep, and Irissë cried out, and obeyed.


End file.
